You Never Forget Your First Earl

by Ella Quinn

  “Nor should you,” Charlotte said. “Trust me when I tell you that there is nothing better than loving a gentleman and having him love you in return. I cannot imagine having relations with a man I did not love.”

  “Relations?” Elizabeth was not at all sure what her friend meant.

  “Oh, dear.” Dotty sighed. “Has no one ever told you what goes on between a man and a woman?”

  Elizabeth’s cousin, Lavvie, had made some subtle hints, yet from what Elizabeth could gather from what her cousin had said, it was horrible and painful. Since her cousin had left Town and might not ever return, she was still in a state of ignorance about what went on between a man and a woman. Asking Aunt was out of the question. “Not precisely.”

  “I was afraid that might be the case. I discovered it quite inadvertently, but once Dominic and I . . .” A blush infused Dotty’s cheeks. “I will just say I was glad to have the information.” Dotty glanced at Louisa.

  “Yes, well.” Louisa also blushed. “Grace told me, and it was very helpful.”

  “If no one objects”—Dotty looked at Charlotte and Louisa who shook their heads—“we shall tell you what you can expect.”

  The next several minutes proved to be more illuminating than Elizabeth would have thought possible. Who would have thought that men and women became so—so intimate? “The man actually enters the woman’s body?”

  “Have you been to Lord Elgin’s museum?” Dotty asked.

  Elizabeth did not understand what the marbles had to do with anything. “Yes, my cousin took me there earlier in the Season.”

  Louisa scrunched her lips and her brows drew together. “Did you notice that the male statues have a dangling bit between their legs?”

  Thinking back, Elizabeth had noticed and had asked her cousin, but Lavvie rushed her through without ever answering. “Yes.”

  “That grows much larger,” Dotty said. “And that is what he will enter you with.” Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask where, when her friend continued. “Where you bleed from during your courses.”

  She must have look appalled because Louisa said, “It only hurts once, and after that it is really very enjoyable.”

  Dotty eased Elizabeth’s mind by adding a few other things she could expect to experience with her potential husband. Some of which she had trouble believing. “He will really put his tongue there?”

  The two married ladies nodded, while Charlotte turned bright red.

  When they had finished, a faint line creased Dotty’s brow. “Do you have any questions?”

  “Not at the moment.” As far as Elizabeth could tell, her friends had been extremely forthright in explaining things. “Thank you. I now know how I must proceed.”

  If nothing else, the discussion made her determined to ensure Lord Harrington—or whomever she married—loved her before the marriage.

  Chapter Eight

  Elizabeth arrived home just as Gavin drove up accompanied by a gentleman she had never seen before. An extremely good-looking gentleman at that. His hair was a sable color and curled quite as much as Elizabeth’s did. His bright green eyes twinkled at something her brother said. His nose was aquiline, his lips well molded, and his chin was strong, but neither was it square. He did have the most delightful dimple on his right cheek when he smiled, which he seemed to do a great deal.

  Yet, despite his undeniable good looks, she was not drawn to him in the same manner she was to Lord Harrington. Which, as it happened, turned out to be fortunate.

  “Gavin, it has been days!” She hovered between hugging her brother or taking him to task. “Where have you been?”

  “All will be made clear in a moment.” Once they were in the hall, Gavin said, “Elizabeth, may I make you known to Lord Littleton. Littleton, my sister, Miss Turley.”

  “Miss Turley.” Lord Littleton smiled as he bowed, and she could name several young ladies who would have swooned the instant he had touched her hand. His address was excellent.

  “My lord, a pleasure to meet you.” She inclined her head then gave her brother a questioning look.

  Obviously quite pleased with himself, Gavin said, “Lord Littleton has agreed to pretend to be interested in you.” For no apparent reason whatsoever, her brother frowned. “The only proviso is that you must not fall in love with him.”

  They must be out of their minds or joking. Why in Heaven’s name would she fall in love with Lord Littleton? “You must be—” The earnest looks on both their countenances made her swiftly understand they were entirely serious about carrying out this farce. “But why?”

  “From what I heard,” Gavin said as he led them back to the morning room, “Harrington only began to behave as if he wanted Lady Charlotte after Kenilworth had snapped her up. I saw Littleton at the fi——er sporting event I attended. He drew women like flies.” Gavin pulled a face. “No offence, Littleton.”

  “None taken.” The man grinned good-naturedly. “Women of all sorts seem to find me interesting.”

  “So,” her brother said, “I thought that anyone could get the idea you might be interested in Littleton—even a dunderhead like Harrington—and he would finally realize what’s what.” Gavin nodded his head decisively as if this all made sense.

  They were mad. Completely out of their minds. Bedlamites, the two of them. Gavin for even coming up with such an idea and Lord Littleton for going along with it. Elizabeth rubbed her forehead. “I do not understand why we must engage in this playacting.”

  “It would not be only you pretending you might be interested in me,” Lord Littleton explained. “I would be seen to be interested in you as well.”

  This still seemed unnecessary. Either Lord Harrington would want her for herself or not. She did not like to engage in deceptions. “To what purpose?”

  “My dear lady.” Lord Littleton possessed himself of her hands, his gaze capturing hers.

  Good Lord, the man was dangerous. She sent a prayer of thanks to the deity that she was not affected by him. “Do you do that on purpose?”

  He shook his head and stared at her. “Do what?”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. “Look into a woman’s eyes as if she were the only lady on earth you wished to be with.”

  “Ah, no,” he said a little sheepishly. “It just happens. I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  “It’s like this, Lizzy”—her brother cut in—“any gentleman who’s interested in a lady doesn’t wish to see another man making up to her.” He gave his friend a disgusted look. “Littleton agreed to help, but you can see how dangerous it is for him to be in Town. He truly can’t help himself from flirting, and he’ll soon find himself in a bumble-bath if he remains too long. He’s not ready for a leg-shackle yet, but he’d be bound to raise some lady’s expectations and that won’t do.”

  “That’s it exactly.” Lord Littleton must have realized he was still holding Elizabeth’s hands and released them. “But that’s not the only reason Turley and I thought I’d be the best one. You see, Harrington and I never got on well together. That will give him the extra incentive to court you properly.”

  “And,” Gavin added, “Littleton is so full of juice that he is just as eligible as Harrington. Other than the title that is.”

  Her brother and Lord Littleton focused their gazes on her, and she glanced from one man to the other. “I understand.” Or she thought she did. Men were such strange creatures. She wondered why Lord Harrington did not like Lord Littleton. He seemed amiable enough. “Very well, then. How do we begin?”

  “First you have to promise not to fall in love with Littleton,” her brother said. “That would make this dashed inconvenient.”

  For all his lordship’s good looks and charming manner—not to mention those eyes—he did not make her heart flutter as Lord Harrington did. Nor had his touch made her want to sink into him when he had held her hands. “I promise.”

  “Good.” Gavin nodded. “Which set did you promise Harrington?”

  “He requested the
supper dance.” She recalled that he had asked for another set, but she had been so out of sorts with him that she hadn’t answered. “That is the only set he will get this evening.”

  “Do you have another waltz on your card?” her brother asked.

  There were only to be three this evening. One was the opening set, and she did not have a partner for that dance as yet. “Yes. The first set is a waltz.”

  Her brother’s eyes danced with mirth as Lord Littleton bowed over her hand again. “Miss Turley, would you do me the great honor of allowing me to partner you for the first set?”

  Elizabeth fought to keep her laughter in as she inclined her head. “Why, yes, my lord. I would be delighted to dance with you.”

  “Perfect.” Her brother preened. “This will work out just as we want.”

  * * *

  Although Lord Littleton dined with them that evening, it was decided he should arrive at the ball after her party solely because she did not want anyone to think that she favored him. Especially when she was to stand up with the man for the first dance.

  Lord Harrington arrived as she and Lord Littleton were taking their places for the waltz. As they twirled around the floor, she caught a glance at Lord Harrington. The scowl on his handsome face was all she could have asked for. Apparently, her brother had been correct. Lord Harrington appeared to be much more interested in her when she danced with Lord Littleton.

  “Miss Turley.” Lord Harrington came up to her as soon as she had been escorted to her aunt. “Did you save me a second dance this evening?”

  She gave him a look that she hoped was both sad but thoughtful by pursing her lips, and raising her brows as if saddened. “I did not, my lord. After I sent the note to you accepting your invitation for the carriage ride, I realized that I had not answered your question about the dance.” Not entirely the truth, but close enough. “As you did not remind me during our drive I forgot about it and gave the set to Lord Littleton.”

  Lord Harrington’s rigid lips barely tilted up, and Elizabeth thought she had lost him for good. Then he said, “I would like to request a second set for tomorrow.”

  Not for the first time, she wished that her aunt would agree to attend more than one event an evening, or remain after supper, but she would not, and Elizabeth’s card was full. “I am sorry to say that I have no more dances available, my lord.”

  When it came time for her waltz with him, she wondered if he would bring the subject up again and was not disappointed. As before, she felt the heat of being in his arms as he twirled her around the floor. They had been, again, discussing his future position, when he abruptly said, “Forgive me for not obtaining a promise from you for a second set. It was foolish to have not realized and asked you again for the dance during our drive.”

  He sounded so contrite Elizabeth’s heart began to yearn to apologize to him as well, yet she kept in mind what her friends had said, and merely replied, “I wish you would have remembered as well.”

  Her brother’s scheme was working even better than she could have imagined it would.

  * * *

  Leaning against a pillar in the ballroom, Geoff couldn’t stop himself from scowling at the sight of another gentleman leading Miss Turley out to dance—for the second time this evening. Not only that, but Lord Littleton, the man who currently held her in his arms, had led her out for the opening set last evening and secured the supper dance this night as well.

  Littleton had to be the reason Miss Turley didn’t have another set to give Geoff.

  Damn it all to perdition. He hadn’t liked the man at Eton or university, and he damn sure didn’t like him now that the blasted fellow was trying to steal his bride. Everything came too easily to Littleton, and Geoff was bound and determined that Miss Turley would not be one of them. She was his.

  He just had to find a way to make her—and everyone else in the ton—understand that simple fact.

  There must be something he could do. If things progressed as they had with Lady Charlotte, he’d lose Miss Turley as well. That meant losing his position with Sir Charles. An untenable proposition.

  Turning to walk out of the ballroom, Geoff ran into one of the people he least wished to see. He bowed. “Cousin Apollonia, how are you this evening?”

  “Better than you, I dare say.” She’d raised one brow, and her tone was as dry as the desert. “I can only assume you did not take her ladyship’s advice.”

  He was not going to have this conversation. Not now when his temper was already frayed to a fine thread. There was only one thing to do. Geoff inclined his head. “Please excuse me,” he said in his haughtiest tone. “I was just leaving.”

  “I do not doubt it.” His cousin’s remark was like a knife twisting in his gut. “Mayhap next time you will listen to older and wiser heads.” She glanced to where Miss Turley danced with Lord Littleton. “Two in one Season. I wish you better luck next time, but I doubt you will have it.”

  As Geoff strode off with as much dignity as he could muster, his cousin’s light laughter followed him. He was not going to be made a fool of. Somehow he would get back into Miss Turley’s good graces.

  Twenty minutes later he strode into his rooms and began searching his desk. “Nettle!”

  “I did not expect to see you so early, my lord.”

  “The ball was a dead bore.” Papers spilled off the desk scattering on the floor. “I need that list.”

  “List, my lord?” Geoff’s valet stood just out of arm’s reach or he might have grabbed the man. He had always prided himself on his calm temperament. Now he wanted to strangle someone.

  “Yes. I threw it on the desk a few days ago after I got back from my grandmother’s house.”

  “And would the list have been in her ladyship’s hand, my lord?”

  “More likely Cousin Apollonia’s.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “Blast it all. Where could it be?”

  Nettle stepped forward, opened a drawer, pulled out a piece of paper, and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Would this be what you are searching for, my lord?”

  Geoff snatched it from his valet’s hands. “Yes.” He read down the items. “First thing tomorrow I want you to go find roses.”

  “Roses?” His valet’s brows rose briefly. “What kind of roses, my lord?”

  He read the list again. “Pink. Have them put some greenery with them as well.”

  “And after I have procured the blooms?” Nettle appeared perplexed as he well might. With one major exception, that had made him look like a popinjay, Geoff had never given flowers to anyone.

  “I’ll have a note ready to go with them to Miss Turley.”

  “Ah, very good, my lord. I will endeavor to arrive at the market when it opens. I believe this will require my personal interest.”

  “Good man.” He poured himself a large glass of brandy. “Have the messenger wait for an answer.” Geoff just hoped she didn’t take an hour to respond like she had the last time. Although then, he had not been on pins and needles wondering if she would accompany him instead of already having an engagement with Littleton.

  Geoff sat down at the desk. He had to strike the right tone with her. Not desperate, but clearly exhibiting his desire to spend time with her. Why the devil was Littleton in Town this late in the Season in the first place? Or at all? Usually, he was mired in his estates.

  Geoff blew a breath. Worrying about the man wouldn’t help him. He had to focus on his quarry.

  My dear Miss Turley,

  I apologize again for not seeking a second set from you before your card was full.

  That he had not made sure to secure that second set from her still enraged him. Come to think of it, that was the evening Littleton showed up.

  Please allow me to stand up with you twice at the Somerville ball for the second set—they were both waltzes—and the supper dance, and two dances at the subsequent events.

  It would also be my honor to take you driving this afternoon at f
ive o’clock.

  My servant will await your answer.

  Yr. humble and devoted servant,

  G. Harrington

  Damn, Littleton. It looked like Geoff was going to have to make a cake of himself after all.

  He glanced at the corner of his desk where Nettle placed important correspondence and there was a letter from his father.

  Dear Harrington,

  As I have not heard from you regarding your courtship of Miss Turley, I trust you have it well in hand. Events are moving rapidly on the Continent. You should be ready to depart as soon as possible.

  Markham

  Hell and the Devil confound it! What else was on that blasted list?

  Send flowers, bonbons, ices at Gunter’s, or whatever she enjoys most.

  How was Geoff supposed to know what Miss Turley liked? They had never discussed it.

  Always offer an invitation in person. It is less likely she will refuse.

  Blast it all! He crumpled the note and threw it in the fireplace. “Nettle,” Geoff called. “Wake me when you return from the market in the morning. I’ll take the flowers to her myself.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  Was that laughter he heard in his valet’s voice? Drat it all. Nettle might be the first, but he wouldn’t be the last one to find Geoff’s situation ludicrous.

  His life would have been much easier if his father had simply arranged a marriage for him. But Geoff hadn’t wanted that. He’d wanted to select his own wife—and look where it had gotten him. In a pickle, that’s where.